It's hard to articulate the seams of "Mystic Places of Dawn." Hell, it's just as hard to grasp what made Septicflesh (or Septic Flesh, or whatever) tick, years after this release. "Mystic Places of Dawn" is first and foremost unlike anything I could've ever imagined. I knew Septicflesh was a bit on the weird side, what with the orchestral elements placed into their death metal genetics on "Communion" and "The Great Mass," but this is just...otherworldly; far beyond the visions of scope and sight. While traditional factors of death metal are important to "Mystic Places of Dawn," Septicflesh manufactured an identity shrouded in folklore and atmosphere, appearing to paint a premonition of ancient civilizations and perverse rituals of lust and indulgence and sacrifice to formless idols long since buried in the decaying sands of time.As I said, putting this into words is a little tricky, because Septicflesh is worlds beyond the cookie-cutter idea of death metal. What they do here is largely based on cryptic, melancholic guitar lines slithering against a synth-heavy postulate, then sticking many archetypical themes of death metal (growling vocals, blast beats, etc.) into the atmospheric nimbus of gloom, and the end result makes the genetic code of Septicflesh circa 1994. "Mystic Places of Dawn," however, is strictly not a roasting bulldozer, as there are savage, ravenous riffing sections and stints of violence afoot, but it's usually caught in the layered, perplexing web of atmosphere. Spiros Antoniou's performance here is probably the finest example of growling vocals you'll ever hear: his voice is guttural and fleshly, like a bloody, ancient demon. In fact, everything about this record is so unique and dynamic that when it all comes together, it sounds like a vortex to some macabre otherworld.
"Mystic Places of Dawn," though, is a stellar example of near-perfect songwriting. Every offering is like an ethereal chapter in an evolving tale of ancient mystery, from the slicing malevolence of "Behind the Iron Mask" to more experimental numbers focused on clean guitars and synths like "The Underwater Garden." Hell, "Mythos," the two-part instrumental epic shutting down the album, has no riffs or growls or drums or anything that would constitute a traditional death metal instrumental; it's a synth-based piece which emits an orchestral vibe of magic and illumination. Few bands could ever pull this off and, more importantly, make it work. "Crescent Moon" trucks on for eight minutes in the arcane bliss of clandestine guitar work and ravish, passionate intensity, and, like the remaining album, is simply amazing.
I can guarantee there are few death metal albums that'll ever rival the eloquent blueprint of "Mystic Places of Dawn." While Septicflesh has largely been able to flourish yet remain like Septicflesh throughout their absorbing (and somehow underappreciated) ritual of a career, I find myself more impressed by these many death metal opuses than their orchestral material. This opinion is (obviously) purely subjective, but here the creativity and semblance provides an atmosphere so unique and perplexing that it really isn't matched by future albumsat least beyond "Sumerian Daemons." To conclude, Septicflesh's work is an elegant, prodigious collection of some of the most excellent death metal ever created. "Mystic Places of Dawn" has been reissued, so grab a copy and let it send you to a world long since forgotten.